


Practice, Practice, Practice

by bip_bebop



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Fantasizing, Fingering, Incest, M/M, Masturbation, Other, ThorThoughts, Thorki - Freeform, solo thor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 03:00:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16359440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bip_bebop/pseuds/bip_bebop
Summary: Loki accuses Thor of thinking less of him due to their usual bedroom arrangement. Thor is determined to show him otherwise, but first, he needs to prepare... on his own.A short, sweet, and awkward journey into Thor's imagination that I wrote for a friend.





	Practice, Practice, Practice

He really had no other option. He had made such a show of it, claiming how they were equals, how he saw no shame in what Loki so fiercely classified as 'debasement' and 'submission,' accusing Thor of purposefully dominating him at every possible turn. At that point, threads of chaotic magic shattering the glass and shoving aside furniture in the room about them with Loki's rage, "but you always seemed to like that" didn't really sound like a viable argument.

  
And as much as he truly meant every word--if Thor was anything other than 'mighty,' he was undoubtedly sincere--he still grew uneasy, even as he worked towards showing, never telling, his brother how much he loved him. Only Loki had ever, would ever, have Thor, but thanks to the infrequency of that (his incorrect assumption that the opposite was both of their preference), the golden prince of Asgard had never quite grown used to that particular brand of invasive discomfort. Put a blade in his shoulder, he could still swing Mjolnir hard enough to crush a bilgesnipe's skull, but one evening with Loki atop him would leave aches for days, in places he would never utilize in battle.

  
The best solution to prove his conviction, then, was to give himself to Loki, willingly, to allow him whatever he chose without fuss for once, and to better quench his resistance--both physical and instinctive--Thor figured...well, he better practice.

  
Thor had never really considered attempting to pleasure _himself_ in that manner. Until he and Loki had grown involved, he had certainly never _wanted_ to be had by any other, and he wasn't sure he'd be keen on doing it himself, either. Nevertheless, he repressed hesitation, flopped down naked upon his massive bed, and took a deep breath.

  
Wait, oil... Without budging, he reached for the bedside table and its small drawer, but it was just out of reach; he sat up with a huff to rummage through its contents for the glass vial he always kept there. Now that he thought of it, Loki always used oil on him, didn't he? And he took time to make sure Thor was aroused enough that the pain would be overridden by piqued nerves and rough kisses. Thor, on the other hand, was less attentive, sometimes forgetting oil entirely. His face burned. Damn. No wonder Loki thought him a beast. He laid back, head landing comfortably on a silk pillow, and he glared at the gilded ceiling of his bedchamber.

  
Now, how best to do this?

  
Loki usually had him on his back rather than stomach or hands and knees. As much as he loved to see Loki's face flushed and panting during sex, Thor had never stopped to consider that Loki must like seeing his, too. He frowned.

  
_Well. I suppose that is a start._

  
He bent his knees, planting one heel in the mattress, the other drawn up almost to his chest for better...access. "Ugh," he grunted, already becoming privately embarrassed for what he was trying to do, and he just about stopped there to leave it for another evening. No, this had to be the first of several tries, until the stretching wasn't so unfamiliar, the place inside him that could make him shout with pleasure and shock better located, so no matter the violence with which Loki took him, he could twist until his brother hit there whether he intended to or not.

  
Thor gulped. He had to stop thinking.

  
He reached between his legs, hesitantly probing, and could feel himself grimacing as one digit found its goal. A sigh, fumbling with the vial, coating, returning to that place, a breath. He could practically hear his brother's voice. _Stop being such a bloody maiden, Thor._ And he slowly pushed in.

  
It wasn't painful. But it wasn't nice, either. Feeling _that_ from both sides, the moist clench of tight muscles around his finger and forcing acceptance of it at the same time, was nothing like attending to another. Ah, but wait--the angle, the bend of his knuckle, wasn't right. He adjusted it with distaste, hips shifting in attempt to find that bundle of nerves Loki abused so well, and after a few moments, he withdrew with a frustrated growl, both hands snatching at his hair, palms covering his still-hot face.

  
"How do you do this to me?"

  
If Loki truly understood the degree of power he had over Thor, he surely would use it to his advantage, to manipulate him in bed or out, and it would be the death of Thor's reputation as an infallible source of near self-destructive pride. In reality, it wasn't a matter of pride at all as Loki'd framed it; it was knowing if Loki never let _himself_ be had, he would let Loki have _him_ any time, just so he could feel those cool, slim fingers run their way over his body, that smooth voice reduced to a rasp with interest as he mocked him in a not-entirely-unbrotherly way, the gentle--sometimes not-so-gentle--tugging of golden locks. The crown prince would surrender completely to his shadowy foil's whims, if he did not stubbornly insist upon making it a chore for Loki to claim him.

  
"Brother." He said it under his breath, letting the memories of past trysts dance through his mind, and soon found himself significantly warmer. "Of course," he muttered, swallowed, and stood, striding over marble tile to the wooden chair across the room. There, the cloak Loki had lent him several days ago was draped haphazardly (he had resisted tossing it in haste, but still paid no heed to keeping wrinkles out), its intricate teal embroidery catching the light so it appeared emblazoned. Thor picked it up gingerly, following the curves and angles of the details along the edges with his gaze, and brought it to his face, nuzzling into the fabric and breathing in. The scent was a mere glimmer of sensation in his nostrils, but it was still trapped there in the woven cloth. _Brother_.

  
This time, he edged himself closer to the headboard, then flipped onto his stomach, pressing his jaw and nose into the crumpled cloak and lifting his hips just enough to allow room. His eyes shut with concentration, his focus entirely on imagining his brother behind him, tracing honed muscles and the seam of his thigh with those sharp claws on those skinny digits of his. One hand raked through the roots of Thor's mane, pulling just a little just as he pushed in again with his middle finger, this time with no hesitation.

  
No such luck. He huffed into the cloak, the fabric growing warm with his own body heat. How--? Another finger. The index this time. Now it was definitely more uncomfortable than pleasurable; his calloused fingers were far thicker and rougher than Loki's, but he didn't allow himself to stop, to reconsider, to let the fantasy at which he barely grasped flit out of his head. "Loki," he whispered, the word muffled into bedding and clothing. "Not like that."

  
_How, then? Like this?_

  
Thor's fingers were knuckle-deep, and by the Nine he wished he'd used more oil, but he twisted and curled them at once, prying a sharp pant from the bottom of his lungs. "Yes, but--"

  
_But not as nice as this?_

  
He spread the two digits, and _oh Ymir's teeth_ that wasn't very good at all, that made his hips jerk forward and away, into the mattress, and the slick friction across his flesh and insides was anything but that maddening pressure Loki somehow achieved. Thor's jaw locked, teeth ground together, but he did it once more, pushed in and scissored and out and in again, taking harsh breaths through his nose to try to wind that scent about him, cloud his mind with crushed mint and clove and faint lingering musk.

  
"Tou--touch me, Loki."

  
_Oh? How forthright._

  
Thor shifted, bent his knees to keep his balance even as his face was shoved into the cushion, and he slid his palm between his stomach and the sheets to firmly take himself in hand. He wasn't fully aroused yet--no surprise there, as off-putting as this was--but still he pulled as if he were, timing that hand with the other, cursing that his own body was yet so foreign, moving faster over sentitive flesh until he was hard in hopes of rising beyond whatever rampart kept him from--

  
"Ah!"

  
Something had changed. He'd pushed back after his hips thrust forth, and fingertips grazed where he at last recognized a degree of the electric pulse that only his brother could set ablaze. Oh, it wasn't the way Loki did it but at least it was _something. So_ he kept stiff fingers teasing there incessantly, as if to burn it into his memory, even as his other palm granted him a tightening core, harsher breaths, a trickling dampness, and he rubbed his thumb across the head of his length until he groaned and tensed, digging his forehead into the bed--

  
_Thor_.

  
"Ohh. Lo--nngh--" Thor's entire body shuddered. "Loki."

  
Thor immediately rolled to the side, away from where he'd just spattered the clean sheets--right in the middle, damn it, he should have considered that--and splayed bronze limbs across and over the edge of the bed. It didn't take him long to reclaim his breath. It never did when he was on his own. He hated that. A swift return to normalcy was not the mark of true satisfaction. But this was a start.

  
"How _do_ you do this to me?"

  
Thor covered his eyes with one forearm, sighed, then chuckled. Intimate muscles were twitching in protest to the assault, and that whole area felt raw despite taking it easier than Loki would. A wave of relaxation overtook him, but he knew this was not enough to prepare for that imminent evening when he would offer himself, pull Loki over him and spread his legs without hesitation to show how genuinely he felt.

He'd have to practice again tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know how often I will be using this account, but I wanted to upload this for October 20th, unofficial bottom Thor day!
> 
> (and yes, the title is a reference to The Swan Princess.)


End file.
